sirenspull | 12 [Video]

So.

[Crowley is in his apartment, carefully turning something over in his hand. It's a silver knife -- and Crowley is wearing gloves so it doesn't burn him -- but why he has such a thing is beyond anyone's guess. Maybe Crowley just feels like being particularly creepy today. Who knows. Who gives a shit. Not Crowley, that's for sure.]

I thought someone had been feeding my dog something particularly disgusting, as apparently she's gained something of a fanclub within the Port, because she's gained weight. And not only has she gained weight, but she's been eating copious amounts of small fuzzy kittens lately, which is putting a damper both on my budget and my carpet.

Unfortunately, that isn't the case, because some insipid insect within the Port has decided it would be funny to impregnate my dog. Now --

[Crowley will just allow the importance of that statement to fall upon the ears of his loyal and adoring public for a moment before he continues speaking.]

Whoever did this has two options. They can speak now or forever hold their peace. Either way, their eyeballs will be ripped from their sockets and dangled from my windowsill as a warning to anyone else stupid enough to screw my dog.

Cheers.

[Click.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Better needing a muscle relaxer than finding a cure to insanity, darling.

[Coldly.]

A pack of hellhounds within the Port, at the beck and call of anyone who finds them -- because you, surely, aren't going to keep tabs on them, seeing as you've done such a wonderful job with that mutt.

[The only reason why Crowley hasn't killed the goddamn things before they're born is because it might hurt his dog. They'll be drowned as soon as he can get his damn hands on them.]

My Hellhounds are made, not born. No one but me will be able to order them around. Yours are the problem hounds; anyone could pocket them and put the pups at their 'beck and call'.

[So this is his problem?

Excuse Crowley as he stares, livid.]

[ -- no, still livid.]

Excellent.

Happy Valentine's Day.

I'll deliver the drowned corpses to your doorstep in thanks.

Oh I look forward to it. [As if they're old college buddies making plans for lunch.]

Edited 2012-02-13 07:01 (UTC)

I'm certain you will.

[Crowley has a large soft spot for the hounds, but he's not having a bunch of half-witted hellhound puppies running around, nor is he taking the time to train them properly. So to the gallows they go.

Until people he likes bitch and moan about puppy cruelty or something.

Fuckers.]

[He's watching the conversation with Sam Merlotte, and contemplating what sort of opportunity that is.]

Joking aside, I know that it is my fault what happened to your pet.

Allow me to set things right.

Kindly go fuck yourself with the pitchfork that I know you have hidden in your closet.

Language, Crowley.

[So content right now your insult doesn't even spark the urge for retaliation.]

I'll help Sam teach them. If, like he said, he gets eaten...I'll destroy them. No mess for you.

[ . . . ]

You, Lucifer, will help Sam, a human, train a pack of hellhounds.

[Incredulous.]

[Shut. up.]

Strictly speaking, he's not human. And if you want to get literal, he's one of mine.

[So hands off.]

Deal?

... okay, wait a moment. I just need to savor this moment.

[And Crowley holds up a finger.]

You, Lucifer, are asking me, Crowley, to do a favor. For a human.

[And he lets out a laugh.]

Fantastic. That's rich.

[He's smiling because he hates you.] For the hellhounds, actually, but if you want to spin it that way go right ahead.

[Arguing that Sam is not a human any further would just put things in a light Lucifer really doesn't want Crowley to be seeing in.]

Speaking of Sams we both know...what's your policy on Winchesters? Still buddying up to them, or did Castiel's mishap change your mind?

You're an idiot if you ever thought I liked them in the first place.

[Idly, letting the hellhound subject drop. But Crowley's attitude has changed entirely. He has something and like hell is he ever going to let it go.]

[he realizes he's let slip something he didn't necessarily want Crowley to know. But on the other hand, Lucifer will never act like it bothers him. Sam is, after all, not an angel. And Crowley at least is smart enough to know what happens when Lucifer's toys are played with.

He suspects that's why Sam Winchester has gone on peacefully for so long here.]

Good.

I'd bet you've been operating under the assumption that I give a damn what happens to him or the other Winchesters. I know he has. But here's the thing: I don't. Feed him to Growley, target practice on him...I wash my hands of all of it.

[ ... Lucifer does not lie.

The demon stares at him for a long moment before he rolls his eyes slightly to the left.]

I wouldn't feed my dog swill.

[But that is... very, very, very good to know.]

[He smiles. Of all the demons, Crowley has always been one of the more curious ones. The others are wildly predictable and easily led, but not Crowley. He's always had his own purpose, like a solitary red ant in a hill of single-minded termites, and Lucifer had always been distantly curious. He feels a glimmer of that now.]

Well, enjoy. Let me know what you decide to do with the pups.

[That's why Crowley is in charge of Hell and every other demon that remotely mattered back in the older days is dead. He has the imagination -- everyone else lacked it.]

I'm certain you'll discover that for yourself.

I'm not your messenger boy.

[And Crowley ends the feed.]

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